The Other Side
by enigma731
Summary: Not all change is bad, but that doesn't make it any less painful. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. Future novella, beginning the summer following the end of Season Five. On permanent hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

NOTES: This story is inspired by a discussion I overheard while working at a hospital, about how people who grow up on a rigorous career path don't learn the same things about life that others might. This is a story about family and independence, and growing up when you thought you already had. I think you'll see what I mean by that as it unfolds.

Chapter One

"Close your eyes," Chase orders as the elevator comes to a stop on their floor.

Cameron gives him a look that says he just might be crazy, then turns and glances at her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. Her hair has started coming down to hang in little tendrils around her face, makeup just slightly less fresh than at the beginning of the reception. But the white of her dress seems to almost glow, radiant even in the fluorescent lights.

"Are you trying to make me break my ankle?" she asks playfully, stepping off onto their floor and ignoring his instructions for the moment. "Because I'm pretty sure waiting for hours in some strange ER isn't how you've dreamt of spending your wedding night."

"Come on," Chase coaxes, catching up. "Trust me."

Cameron pauses and turns to look at him again, a mixture of nervousness and excitement fluttering up in her stomach. They've agreed that this weekend should be low-key and relaxing, just a nice few days in New York City. There will be time for a more extravagant honeymoon later, when they can both afford more than a few days off. But Chase clearly has something in mind now; there'd be no reason to close her eyes simply to enter a standard hotel suite.

"Fine," she says at last, giving in to the infectiousness of his enthusiasm and the warm glow of the day. "But you'd better catch me if I trip."

"Of course." Chase offers her his most disarming grin, and finally excitement wins out in the war over her doubts. She's gladly committed her life to him this day; it seems ridiculous in comparison to question his ability to guide her twenty feet down a hallway.

Closing her eyes at last, Cameron waits for the comforting warmth of his arm around her shoulders before taking a few tentative steps, letting him lead until she hears his cardkey scrape in the lock and the door slide open. Chase coaxes her the last small distance inside before stopping her with his hands on her waist.

"Okay," he murmurs, breath brushing the side of her neck. "You made it here in one piece. You can look now."

Cameron opens her eyes, blinking in the sudden dimness of the light, and gasps softly. Chase has booked the honeymoon suite, she realizes instantly, despite the fact that she's told him it wasn't necessary, that any nice hotel room would do. She's been hesitant in the planning of this entire day, not because she's doubted for a second that she wants to marry Chase, but in deference to the memories of her first hurried, somber wedding. She'd given up her dreams for the day then, and it's seemed almost disrespectful to her husband's death to plan something extravagant now.

But this—the surprise of this room is perfect, appealing to every bit of the naïve romantic side she's learned to hide so well over the past few years. The fact that Chase has arranged it without her asking keeps the guilt at bay as she looks around, nearly overwhelmed by affection for him. The walls are a rich dark red, lit by a series of small lamps meant to emulate candle light. Several real candles sit on the dresser, waiting to be lit, next to a tray with champagne and chocolates. Scattered all over the room are flowers she knows instantly Chase must have ordered specially. There are at least a dozen bouquets of roses, the same as the one he'd left on top of Cameron's locker three years ago. Tentatively she moves over to the bed, where the largest arrangement is nestled amongst the many pillows, and picks up the card that's attached to the stems.

_Definitely not stolen, _it proclaims in ornately looped handwriting.

When Cameron looks back at Chase, he's regarding her anxiously, his eyes wide and vulnerable in the low light. She sees this fear in him sometimes, like he still somehow expects to be rejected at any moment. It makes her heart ache for him, and at the same time further endears him to her, making her want to prove his doubts unfounded.

"It's beautiful," she breathes. "I love it. Thank you."

Chase relaxes visibly, exhaling a long breath and closing the distance between them to put his arms around her from behind. Turning in his embrace, Cameron kisses him, running her hands back through his hair.

"We got married," he says, almost as though he doesn't really believe it yet.

"Really?" Cameron teases, "because I thought we just spent the past six months planning a really, really big birthday party."

Chase laughs, momentarily stepping away from her to pour the champagne. Moving the flowers over to the nightstand, Cameron sits on the edge of the bed and starts pulling the pins from her hair. It comes down in long blonde ringlets, brushing her bare shoulders and sending goose bumps across her neck. Finishing, she looks up to find Chase watching her, two glasses in his hands.

"You look beautiful," he says after a moment, shaking himself and coming over to sit beside her.

Smiling, Cameron takes the champagne and clinks the edge of her glass against his, taking a few sips before setting it on the nightstand. She's already pleasantly warm and light-headed from the wine at the reception, appreciative of the symbolism of toasting now, but far more interested in Chase than in the drink itself.

"You're Dr. Chase now," he says, echoing House's speech with a goofy grin.

"Good thing we don't work in the same department anymore. Everyone would be so confused." Changing her name is a strange feeling, as though her life has leapt ahead by miles while the person she's become over the past six years is still waiting to catch up. Still, it's for the best, she tells herself. Chase hasn't complained once about being the second man in her life to have earned these milestones, but he still deserves something of his own, she thinks. Her name is something she didn't give away the first time, despite everything, unwilling to live the rest of her life under the mark of a man who would inevitably leave her too soon. Taking Chase's name is her unspoken promise to both of them that this will be forever in a way her previous marriage never could have been.

Setting his own glass down, Chase turns and kisses her again, carding his fingers through her hair. He is breathless and slightly flushed when he pulls back to look at her again, from the alcohol or the contact, she's not sure.

"So?" he asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively. His hair is disheveled, a few pieces falling into his eyes in the way that Cameron has grown to love, though she remembers wanting to cut it off with scissors when she first met him. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, shirt unbuttoned at the top, taunting her to open it further.

"Yeah?" Cameron breathes, already leaning closer to him.

"It's our wedding night." Chase smiles again, face slowly lighting up with a mischief that makes her want to reply by throwing him back against the bed on the spot, nevermind what else he has to say. But she forces herself to be patient, letting him finish his thought. "Isn't this the part where we're supposed to pretend we've been virtuous all along and need to consummate our marriage?"

Cameron snorts and rolls her eyes. "Or we could just have really fantastic sex."

Chase laughs softly, a warm breath tickling her neck and making her shiver as he leans in to kiss the spot just behind her ear. "Or that," he murmurs with his lips against her skin.

Cameron pushes his jacket from his shoulders, letting it crumple to the bed behind him. The cool silk of his tie slithers through her hands as she pulls it off as well, leaning up to kiss him again hungrily. Chase's hands brush her hair over one shoulder, long fingers fumbling with the zipper of her dress as he continues kissing her, teeth gently playing along her lower lip.

"Having trouble there?" Cameron mumbles against his lips when several minutes have passed and her dress still remains zipped.

"You're very good at distracting me." Chase pulls back for a second, holding her face in both hands. Sitting up straighter, he caresses her cheek, trailing his fingers over the side of her neck and between the swells of her shoulder blades to find her zipper again, moving with more certainty this time. Slowly and smoothly he works it down, his skin gliding warmly against hers as his hand travels. When he gets to the bottom of the zipper, Chase leans back to watch, and Cameron gets to her feet, slipping the straps from her shoulders and stepping out of the dress. He sucks in a quiet gasp as she momentarily turns away to drape the garment over the chair next to the bed, fully revealing the delicate white lace of the lingerie she's been wearing under it all day.

"Oh, god," he murmurs. Cameron takes a few steps toward the bed again, moving to stand between his knees. Chase puts his hands on her waist and urges her closer still, stroking his thumbs over her sides. She leans down to rest her forehead against his for a moment before straightening and working her way down the buttons of his crisp, white shirt. Chase pushes the bottom of her camisole up, gliding his palm along the flat plane of her stomach.

"I thought you'd like it," Cameron says softly, massaging the back of his neck. Chase tips his head up to look at her, his eyes wide and strikingly open and filled with need for her. Taking hold of his wrists, Cameron pulls his hands to her lips, kissing his fingertips, then releases them, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. Chase shrugs out of it, letting it pool on top of his jacket. Pushing him back against the bed, Cameron waits for him to settle and then climbs up, straddling him and ducking her head to kiss his neck. He moans softly as she grazes her teeth over his clavicle, sucking gently. His hands come up to play over her back, warm as he slips them under the lace again, stroking upward and then back down again, this time pushing under the waistband of her panties and over her bottom. Cameron shudders, and he responds by curling his thumbs forward to rub tantalizing circles over her hipbones.

Shifting against him, she works her lips down his chest, pausing to circle his left nipple with her tongue, working her fingers in tandem on the other side. Chase sucks in a sharp breath and groans, his hips jerking slightly under her. Crawling back up his body, Cameron kisses him again messily. He takes the hem of her top firmly in his hands, finally managing to get it over her head in a tangle of limbs and laughter and eagerness. Sitting up against the pillows, he pulls her onto his lap and leans forward, nuzzling the hollow between her breasts and sending goose bumps over her stomach.

Chase plants little kisses over her chest, at the same time trailing his hands downward and taking hold of her hips. Cameron rocks against him, watching his eyelids flutter half-closed in pleasure. His soft exhalation of breath sends a thrill through her and she runs her hands up his back. Chase slips his fingers just beneath the lacy waistband of her panties, brushing her abdomen and then lower, pushing the thin fabric down her hips. Cameron moans as he finds her, angling herself into his grasp. His brow furrows in concentration as he builds a slow rhythm, his movements sending waves of heat radiating through her core. Chase keeps his eyes locked with hers, enthralled by the changes he's creating in her.

"Talk to me," he murmurs huskily.

For a moment, she can't find her voice, or remember any words to say. Her head is swimming, lost in the sensation of him. "I want you," she manages at last. Three words she once never imagined herself saying aloud to him, much less the romanticisms she's prone to when he has her so utterly at the mercy of her own pleasure. "I want you just like this, every day for the rest of my life."

"Well, in that case," Chase breathes, his tone bordering on possessive, "you can have me." Sitting up further, he pulls his hand away, leaving her quivering on the edge of fulfillment, and desperately hungry for more. Fumbling with his belt buckle for a second, Cameron gets his pants undone, his soft groan of relief sending a fresh shudder through her.

Carefully, he takes hold of her shoulders, guiding her to lie back against the bed beside him, and then stripping off his pants and boxers before crawling atop her body. Stretching upward, he touches his forehead to hers in a reversal of her earlier gesture. Everything is turned tonight; in the beginning it was against her rules to let him be in control, but now, in this moment, it's the only place she wants him.

Taking hold of his hips, Cameron helps him into position, and Chase makes a soft, needy noise as he sinks into her. Cameron rolls her head back into the pillow as he starts to move, gliding her hands over his back. The feeling of his body is overwhelming, skin and warmth all around until she loses track of everything else and minutes seem to stretch into eternity. This whole day has been about ritual, about completing the journey that started with the bizarre vulnerability brought about by drugs and ended on the altar this afternoon, when she committed herself to this relationship in front of everyone who matters in her life.

In this instant, and this night, it is as though the world has expanded, and everything she's known so far is only a tiny speck in the unending universe of experience. She's spent years telling people she had the perfect marriage and the perfect man before; now she feels certain it's been a lie all along. But the shame which once would have been wrapped up in that thought is gone, precluded by hope as Chase brings his lips to hers once more and she climaxes with a soft cry into his mouth. He joins her a moment later, burying his face in her neck, and she can feel his body quivering with the force of his orgasm.

"I love you," Cameron murmurs breathlessly as he lifts himself off of her and sinks heavily into the mattress by her side. She curls into him, resting her head on his chest and listening to the pounding of his heart.

"Yeah?" Chase asks softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Definitely." Reaching across the nightstand and switching off the light, Cameron watches her ring pick up glints from cars passing on the dark street below.

--


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Life continues barreling on as it did the first time, as it always has. The weekend of celebration comes to an end, and Monday morning rolls around, and Cameron feels as she did before that things ought to seem more different. Years ago, she'd looked to marriage to be a miracle—to cure illness and ward off the gaping maw of death.

She doesn't believe in fairytales anymore, not since that day. And yet still it feels as though something ought to have changed now, the final piece of the happiness she's been building meticulously for years now finally clicked into place. Instead it's raining, and the alarm clock is vaguely annoying, and the stacks of boxes lining the perimeter of the new house still haven't magically unpacked themselves. On the other hand, Chase is out of bed and in the kitchen making coffee by the time she's out of the shower, which just might be a miracle in itself.

"Morning," he says, smiling with far more good humor than Cameron can find at the moment, and handing her a mug.

She takes it, narrowing her eyes a little. "Is there something that you want?"

"Why would you think that?" Chase asks innocently, ignoring the newly-set-up table and chairs and pulling himself up to sit on the counter.

"You're awake." Cameron sips her coffee appreciatively; he knows her more than well enough to make it exactly the way that she likes. "And you're ready to leave when I am."

Chase smiles at her over the rim of his mug, in his expression the admission that she's at least partially right. "Well, I was hoping that we could do some more unpacking tonight. And—that you might be home in time for dinner."

Cameron tenses at this, lowering her eyes to study the surface of her coffee as his words make her heart sink. She feels more and more torn lately, pulled in every direction by the commitments and people she cares about in her life, and always forced to choose somebody to let down.

"I don't know," she says after a moment, the warmth of the coffee already fading a little as she watches him blink away a look of disappointment. It hurts, but it's the truth, and it seems less cruel than making an uncertain promise only to have him left waiting for her for half the night. "I've been gone for five days. Things are going to be hectic. A lot to catch up on."

Chase sighs, not quite visibly upset, but obviously less enthusiastic about the morning than just a few moments ago.

"I'm sorry," Cameron says quietly, looking away from him and focusing instead on a dark stain on the far wall. This room will need to be painted, one more item in the endless list of things which have to be done before their lives can feel truly settled again.

"We should go," he says simply, glancing at the clock hung temporarily—and crookedly—above the sink. "You'll be late if we don't."

The ride to work is silent and slightly tense. Cameron knows he isn't really angry; they agreed a long time ago that the reality of work was inevitable and wouldn't come between them. Still, it's one more reminder of the world they're coming back to from this weekend of escapist bliss, this life in which there are bills to be paid and appointments to be made, and a work schedule which leaves them lucky to have four nights a week together, even living in the same house.

"You awake?" Chase asks, and Cameron jumps, realizing that they're in the parking garage already. Their new house is nearly twice as far from the hospital as her old apartment, but the time in transit this morning has been lost in the race of calculations in her head, the mental decision tree of time and priority.

Coming around her side of the car, Chase opens the door for her and gallantly offers his arm. Cameron rolls her eyes, stepping out and kissing him very lightly. "Dork."

Chase shrugs. "You're just figuring this out now?"

"No," she says nonchalantly, "but it's always nice to be reminded. Come on, it's almost nine."

Cameron takes a breath and then walks into the atrium with him. The feeling is just the slightest bit unsettling; she's acutely aware of people's eyes on them, knowing that by now word of the wedding must have traveled throughout the hospital. It's not that she's ashamed of people knowing, but after six and a half years here, her past is all but common knowledge, from her first doomed marriage to her disastrous date with House. Now she is protective of her relationship with Chase, wishing she could prevent it from being scrutinized and judged by the rest of the hospital.

"Damn, you came back." Foreman's voice makes Cameron jump again, stopping long enough to focus on him.

"Thanks," says Chase dryly. "You really know how to make friends feel welcome."

But Foreman is smiling. "We had a pool going over the weekend. I had a hundred bucks on the two of you running off on a real honeymoon."

"Sorry," Cameron deadpans, unamused at the confirmation of her suspicion that everyone's been gossiping while they've been gone. "Must've missed that memo."

"We were a little distracted," Chase adds, and Foreman looks thoroughly disgusted.

Still keeping half an eye on the clock, Cameron shakes herself. "Did you need something, or are you just here to chat? Because I have places I need to be."

"We've got a case," says Foreman, continuing before she has a chance to protest. "Or I should say, _you_ have a case. House has everyone down there poking at one of your patients. Thought I'd give you fair warning."

Cameron groans inwardly, not ready to deal with House and the team on top of everything else she has to catch up on this morning. "Thanks. I guess really do have to get down there, then. Are you coming with me?"

Foreman nods. "My case now too, although I'm not sure why House thinks this should be one of ours. You'll see."

Cameron nods once, then turns back to Chase, grimacing apologetically. "I'll see you later? I'll try to make it as early as I can."

"Go," Chase says softly, face impassive, and leans in to kiss her cheek. "People need you."

Cameron lingers for a moment, trying to read him, then decides that if there is anything here it will have to wait for later. Tucking it away into a corner of her mind to be dealt with after work, she hurries after Foreman.

--

Chase is exhausted from the moment he gets into the locker room to change into scrubs. It isn't that he hasn't slept, but his dreams were tumultuous all night long, filled with images of decaying altars and the faces of people who ought to be proud of him but are instead absent.

Marriage is a thing he's wanted and feared simultaneously all his life. Its success is what's been missing for so long, responsible, he's convinced, for everything from his mother's death to the loneliness of his early adulthood. But now it seems at once a miracle and a reminder of the family he no longer has to welcome a wife into. The possibility for failure looms large and ominous, fueled by the admittedly ridiculous fear that Cameron has been married before and will somehow expect things of him which he as yet has no basis for. Knowing it's irrational doesn't help.

There have been several trauma patients brought in during the night, surgeries running long, and by the time the scheduled patients start arriving at the beginning of Chase's shift, the department is already four hours behind.

Chase spends most of the morning trying to remove a metastatic tumor from a little girl's brain. She's one of Wilson's patients, barely five years old, but already dying of lymphoma. The tumor is large, and very close to vital areas of her brain. One slip of the scalpel, one misjudgment by a fraction of a millimeter and the girl will wake up a vegetable, or blind, or worse.

In the end, he is unable to get all of the cancerous tissue, and is forced to concede that he's only managed to extend her life by a few months at best, rather than save it. Her parents look broken, shell-shocked and wasted, as though their daughter's disease has physically sickened them as well. They don't cry when Chase delivers the news, just accept it quietly and sincerely and thank him for the effort. That's almost worse, and by lunch all he wants to do is forget about everything for a little while. But all that's waiting for him in the locker room when he gets there is a text from Cameron saying that she's too busy to eat.

Throwing the phone back into his locker and slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, he makes his way to the surgical lounge, hoping just to sit and be left alone. But that's a mistake, Chase realizes as soon as he catches sight of House seated on the couch, his back to the door. Chase contemplates turning and leaving again, but he hesitates just a moment too long and House turns around, eyes clearly full of purpose.

"How's your patient?" House asks insincerely, and Chase can tell immediately that he has an agenda.

"Dying," Chase says tightly, swallowing down the surprising amount of emotion that comes with the statement. This girl's life is going to end before she ever has a chance to even begin growing up. For the first time, he thinks he can see into the world that her parents are facing.

"Too bad." House sounds totally unfazed. "Would she like to donate her liver, then? Because I've got a patient who could totally use it."

"_What_?" Chase sputters, shocked at House's audacity despite everything. He feels raw, defenses already depleted by the morning, leaving him vulnerable to House's attack. "She's not dying _right now_!"

"That's unfortunate," says House calmly. "Because my patient is unless she gets a liver in about…right now."

"You came here to scavenge my patient's organs?" Chase asks incredulously, shoving his hands into his pockets as they start to shake.

House stands up, seeming to tower over Chase despite the slight stoop as he leans on his cane. "No, not really. There's a guy dying down in the ER too. Old man. Fell down a flight of steps and fractured his skull. Brain's scrambled now."

"And you want—what?" Chase wonders if this accident is what has Cameron tied up, whether she's dealing with another grieving family right now. He feels too hot, and unable to focus.

"I want you to do the transplant surgery," says House, and suddenly everything starts to become clear. "I checked the board. You're covering trauma for the afternoon."

Chase narrows his eyes. "What's wrong with your patient? That was a quick diagnosis. Five hours? That's got to be some kind of record for you, right?"

"Don't know yet," says House, and Chase frowns. "But I do know that she's an alcoholic who's going to die of liver failure before we can diagnose her unless you do this transplant."

Chase goes rigid, every muscle in his body suddenly on edge. House's presence here shifts into something much more threatening than a simple annoyance on an already bad day. "That's not a trauma," he says tightly. "Have you even gotten the family's consent?"

"Alcoholics don't tend to have much family left to care," says House, and Chase tightens his jaw, feeling his heart beat faster. "Nasty thing about addiction."

"I meant the _donor's_ family." Chase takes a long, slow breath, trying to keep his voice even.

House shrugs. "They're not going to want his organs back if you've already done the surgery."

"I'm not going to steal a liver from a dying man just so you can solve your puzzle!" Chase finally explodes. "Alcoholism probably _is_ the diagnosis. It causes all kind of problems, you know that! I am _not_ risking my license for someone who doesn't care enough about her own life to stop killing herself!"

"Wow," says House calmly, narrowing his eyes into an expression which says an outburst like this is fascinating to him. "Sounds like you're taking this personally or something."

"The answer is no," Chase says quietly, still fighting to regain control. "Ask someone else. You've got the whole hospital to harass." Chase turns to leave, but House is impossibly faster, taking a large step forward and hooking the cane in front of Chase's legs.

"They're not as much fun," he continues without missing a beat. "And besides, I thought for sure you'd want this opportunity."

"Why?" Chase snaps, feeling cornered and out of control. "Because you think I'm an idiot? That's the only reason I can come up with why someone would do this for you."

"Well," says House, "I thought you might appreciate the chance to redeem yourself."

The tone of his voice makes Chase's blood run cold. It's the sound he's heard far too many times over the years and always half-dreaded having directed at him. Behind the words is the unspoken warning that he's found a weak spot and won't hesitate to stab.

"I haven't done anything wrong," Chase insists, slowly and firmly.

"Well, not recently." House cocks his head. "Don't you religious boys believe in that karma thing, though? You couldn't save your mother, but you can help this patient."

"This has nothing to do with my mother!" Chase explodes, attempting to step over the cane. But House is too quick again, darting it out another foot, and in his haste Chase trips over it, sprawling on the lounge floor with a painful thud. He gets back up immediately, ignoring the protest from an ankle that's gotten turned. "There was nothing I could've done! I was just a _kid_!" He makes it to the door, but House's next words make him freeze in place, hand on the knob.

"Sure," House accuses. "People don't change. You're high and mighty about my patient now, you were high and mighty about your mother's drinking then. You resented her. For your dad leaving, for the loneliness of your childhood, for every bad thing that ever happened to you. Sure, you took care of her, but you didn't do everything. Hell, some days you probably _hoped_ that she would kill herself a little faster."

"You know _nothing_ about me!" Chase shouts, feeling completely unhinged and not caring. Everything is too much. The stress of a new life, of a new house, new pressures of marriage. The image of the little girl he's spent the morning trying to save, dying before she ever gets to start the first grade. And now the memories that House has brought back, unbidden. In a rush to get away, he pushes the door open, still yelling at House over his shoulder. "I never hoped she'd die! All I wanted was for her to get better! But your patient—_She_ can die right this second for all I care!"

Turning to flee down the hall, Chase finds himself confronted by a harried-looking man and two young girls, obviously the patient's family. He can tell by the looks on their faces that they've heard everything, having played a role in the persuasive trap he's seen House use on so many people before.

--

Cuddy finds him several hours later, while Chase is holed up on the couch in the lounge, blessedly alone this time. He's spent the better part of the afternoon trying to apologize to the family, to explain why even if he was willing, the transplant surgery House has planned is ultimately illegal. The sound of the door swinging open makes him jump, and the distinct clacking of Cuddy's shoes on the floor brings his head around to face her.

"I'm sorry," Chase says quietly, having expected this.

But Cuddy looks grim, even more worn than usual. She takes a long breath before speaking quickly and formally. "Dr. Chase, I'm sorry. You're fired."

--


End file.
